Fury
by The Dark Shark
Summary: [OneShot] Fury can drive you to do things you never thought you would do. Especially when you're hurt. A PS piece.


_**I disclaimed the characters below to Meg Cabot**_

_Fury can drive you to do things you never thought you would do._

_My entry in the 'KPS2' contest at MCBC. A P/S thingy. A bit…um, hot. And angry._

_Still a JFCer at heart. And mind, and body, and soul._

_Read and review?_

* * *

I was furious. 

Pushing the pedals harder, my car sped along the highway, breaking the speed limit. But I didn't care. My mind was focused on one thing, to get to the party. To see for myself what Jesse and that Spanish bitch were doing.

_I'm sorry, querida. She's new in college, she doesn't know much English. She needs someone to help her._

_Isn't there anyone else who can speak Spanish besides you? There must be._

_No one else volunteered._

Well, of course, good, helpful Jesse, always willing to help the helpless. Tutoring classes. Yeah, right. I laughed bitterly, the wind from my opened window whipping my hair. Some of the hair strands stuck to my lip gloss, but I didn't make any move to sweep them aside. I just kept driving.

_Did you think I was blind? You were kissing her! _

_Nombre de Dios, I didn't! She was the one who kissed me, that was never my intention. _

_Then tell me that you'll stay away from her. Stop seeing her._

_Susannah, I can't._

I turned the corner, the huge house looming up ahead. The party was supposed to be some get-to-know-each-other crap that some rich senior kids had set up. Only those from the Embridge College could come. Well, they and their dates, or some privileged kids who knew someone on the inside.

I braked, stopping just inches from the car in front of me. Some BMW. I switched off the engine, then laid my head on the steering wheel, slowing down my breathing. Focus. Be strong. Show that bastard that you're not some lovesick teenage girl who needs him. You are a kick-ass mediator who does not take any crap from anyone. No one.

I opened the car door, got out and slammed the door shut. Then I made my way up the walkway to the house, trying to look as if I belonged there. No one looked at me. Some kids were hanging outside, drinking beer and goofing around. I walked through the main door, doubt creeping up my mind.

What was I doing here? I planned to march up to them and say some witty lines, or throw some fruit punch on their faces, but that seemed so immature. There were tons of people in the house, some standing around the hallway or near the walls, some dancing on the main floor, some sitting on the couch chatting with each other. It didn't look like it was wild or out of control. In fact, it looked tame compared to that party in my house that Brad threw last year.

I stood still at the door for a couple of seconds, then took a few steps, scanning the place. I unzipped my black leather jacket; feeling suffocated all of a sudden. Then I saw the one person I least expected. Paul? What was _he_ doing here? He's most definitely not in college.

I stared at him. He didn't notice me. He was standing near the corner of the room, talking with some guys, a cup of punch on his hand. He had on some white shirt and his usual dark brown leather jacket. He was laughing. I was mad. How could he be happy when I was not? It's supposed to be the other way round. He was supposed to _pine_ over me while I'm enjoying my fairy tale relationship.

This was useless. I made to turn towards the door when some blonde girl bumped into me from behind. I turned; about to say something when I saw _them_. Sitting on the couch so close together. Talking. The blonde girl was apologizing to me, but I ignored her, and she went away.

Talking. Laughing. Was everyone happy but me? Blood was rushing to my ears, making me numb and cold. My heart was thudding like crazy, and my head was throbbing. He was laughing with her. I wanted to do something, but I didn't know what. I just stood there.

Until Jesse looked up and saw me. His brown eyes widened in surprise, and he stopped talking to that chick. I started walking towards them, and his brows furrowed, like he was thinking about something. Possibly thinking that I might go ahead and hit him. Weirdly, I felt like laughter was bubbling up my throat, ready to burst out. I wasn't going to punch him. I would do something that would hurt more.

I used to be tough. Then I fell in love and turned to mush. Now I remember who I am. Who I'm supposed to be. I am Suze Simon, from Brooklyn, New York. And I am powerful.

Halfway towards them, I turned to left and kept walking. I felt his eyes on me, and I was glad. I _wanted_ him to see this. What I was about to do, which didn't even occur to me until a few seconds ago.

Paul saw me when I was about ten steps away. He raised his eyebrows, looking less surprised than amused. His friends turned and looked at me, then stepped out of the way. I didn't know what expression I had on my face, but I bet it wasn't pleasant. I probably looked like some psychotic killer on the loose.

Paul just watched me as I strode up to him, knocking away that plastic cup in his hand. It fell on a small coffee table, the punch spilling over the carpet. He looked down to his hand for a second, then looked back at me. There was confusion, apprehension, even a little bit of anger on his face. But I didn't let him think. Instead I shoved him against the wall, held his shoulders there and kissed him. Hard.

I heard some people gasped, and some guys whooping. But I just went on kissing him, pushing my lips against his as hard as I could. I felt in power. So long has he used his power over me, but not anymore. Now I was the one kissing him, and I was in power.

That is until he got over his shock and kissed me back. Snaking his hands inside my jacket and around my waist, he pulled me closer, making my heart beat faster. One of his hands ran up my back, trailing a scorching line up to the back of my neck, where it stopped. He gripped the back of my head and leaned down to deepen the kiss, making me feel trapped. His other hand was on the little bit of exposed skin on my lower back, his fingers already slipping under my shirt.

I tried to concentrate, running my hand over his chest and through his hair, but I couldn't. I couldn't escape even if I wanted to. His kiss was poison, making me forget where I was and what I was doing. I felt his tongue lingering on my lips, enticing them to open for him, tempting me to slip further under his spell. I unsealed my lips, and let him in. The moment our tongues touched, it was as if there was a spark of something sharp and dangerous, a feeling that I felt all the way to the pits of my stomach. But then it was gone and was replaced by sheer sinful pleasure. Oh God. I had to restrain myself from moaning against his lips.

I was wrong. I was never in power. I thought I was, but he had proven me wrong. Just one kiss and I knew. It was scary how much power he had over me but at the same time I wanted more. There were rampaging butterflies in my stomach, and the lower part of my body was aching for more. That's why I stopped, before it got any further.

I pushed him away, both of us staring at each other, gasping for much-needed air. His eyes were half-closed, and his lips were dark, like it was bruised from the kiss. At least, that was how my lips felt.

I stepped back from him, but his hands were on my hips. I glanced around us, suddenly realising what a spectacle we must have been. But no one was paying us any attention. Apparently two people making out with each other in public was normal for college students. But then I looked over at the couch, and saw that there was one person still looking at me. Jesse. His face was blank and expressionless, but his eyes were filled with anger, hurt, anguish, sorrow.

Good.

Because I would have felt extremely guilty had I seen him like that any other time especially after what I just did, but that Spanish chica was still hanging on his arm, leaning her head on his shoulder. And he made no attempts to push her off. I stared at him to see if he would get up, walk over to me and claim me, say that I was his. But he didn't. He just sat there.

And I realized that it was over.

"So you finally came to your senses." I slowly turned towards Paul, who was now smirking, seemingly recovered from that mind-blowing kiss. And I wanted to say that I hadn't, that it was all a mistake, but I couldn't. I had lost. And he knew it, as much as I had.

Two can play that game. I'll show him. The corner of my lips turned up, slowly forming a smirk to match his. "No, I haven't. I just wanted a taste of something I never had."

He raised one his eyebrows, smiling even wider. "What, kisses?"

One word was all I said. "Freedom."

Then I pulled him back for another kiss.


End file.
